He Nohomalie
by Shakespeare's Lemonade
Summary: How I think Danny might react when Steve falls down the cliff in Ma Ke Kahakai. Now continued with what happens after the episode.
1. Part I

"He Nohomalie"

Shakespeare's Lemonade

Rating: T

Genre: Suspense/Action

Summary: How I think Danny might react when Steve falls down the cliff in Ma Ke Kahakai. I'm sure the episode will completely demolish this idea, but I thought it would be interesting.

A/N: The title means "Silence" according to a nice person on Yahoo! Answers.

I wonder why I bother telling him to be careful as rocks crumble under his hands. He'll never listen. Oh, well. At least he didn't fall.

I pull the rope tighter, thinking it might do some good.

_Come on, Steve_, I think to myself.

He's going too fast. I mean, I don't know much about climbing—I'm sure he knows a lot more—but I know he's going way too fast. He reaches for the next handhold and I think he's almost to the top, but the rock moves.

And it's a big rock.

For a second, all I can do is stare as it falls and hits him in the face. I wince as if it hit me. Then I hear myself shouting his name as he falls. It's a long way down.

It seems like forever until he hits the ground and for a second I fear he might roll off the cliff and go on falling, but he doesn't.

I call his name again, but he doesn't answer.

He can't be dead. I mean, it's not like a massive boulder to the head could kill a guy. Not a guy like him anyway.

For what seems like eternity, I keep shouting his name. Every time I expect him to roll over and tell me to shut up. I would be okay with that at this point.

"Come on. Talk to me," I say, but not loud enough for him to hear me if he could. "Come on, you stupid SOB!" I shout this time, and it isn't until the words have left my mouth that I realize who else I called that. "I mean moderately intelligent ass," I amend, because I really didn't mean to call him the same thing I called Matt.

It's not like Steve intentionally fell down a cliff and got knocked unconscious. Well, that may not be true, but I give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Hey!" I shout again. "I'm not telling my daughter that I dropped her Uncle Steve off a cliff. So, wake up."

I think I see him move a little. It could be my imagination. No, then I hear a low groan. At least he's alive and sort of conscious.

"Hey, talk to me," I say in a slightly less annoyed tone.

He doesn't say anything, but tries to push himself up on his arms and collapses again with an even louder groan.

"I think my arm's broken," he finally says.

And I believe him because I've never heard his voice so wavering.

"Okay," I say. "Can you get up?"

He uses only his right arm and gets to a sitting position away from the ledge. He looks up at me and I can see the bruises beginning to form on his face. I try not to cringe, because even from far away, they look nasty.

"I'm gonna call for help," I say. "Don't go anywhere."

He gives me a look and I don't bother him about it. I deserve it this time. Then he sighs.

"Not going anywhere, Danno," he says.

I nod and begin to search for cell service, thinking the whole time that this was a close call. Too close.

And I'll lecture him about it later.


	2. Part II

I was requested to continue this and had some ideas of how to do that. This will probably have short chapters, and I'm not sure how long I'll go on with it. Probably only a couple of chapters. Who knows? So, on with the show.

_Part II_

He's a weird sort of quiet as we drive back from the airport.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replies quickly. "Just... my head really hurts."

"I imagine that has something to do with the massive rock that landed on it."

"Probably." He looks out the window and doesn't say anymore, but I sense his reaction when I take the familiar road to his house.

"Thought we were going back to work," he says.

"Well, seeing as how our day off yesterday turned out not to be, and you just admitted to having a headache, I thought I should take you home."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are. But I might want to make your headache worse, and that's easier when you're not running around all over the place."

"What are you talking about."

"Oh, you thought you were getting off easy because you broke your arm? You know, you wouldn't have if you had listened to me."

"How was I to know the rock was loose?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should have tested it before you put all your considerable weight on it."

"It's a moot point anyway." He looks out the window again, as if to ignore me.

"No. No it isn't because if you had been more careful, this wouldn't have happened. You broke your freaking arm! Kids do that falling out of trees, not full grown Navy SEALs."

"Are you done?"

"No. Why do you always ask me that? I'm trying to make a point here."

"Apparently. You know that's never going to happen again, right?"

"Sure, but will it set any kind of precedent? I mean, you never seem to stop having close calls, no matter what you're doing. Yeah, you might not fall off any more cliffs, but next time it'll be something else."

"If you're worried about me, just say so."

"No. I am not saying that. In most circumstances, you do an amazing job of surviving, but you slacked off today. Besides, if I said I worried about you, you would just tell me not to."

"Yeah. I would." He looks at me now and he has that tone that says the conversation is over.

Ha. Not hardly. "When you actually _say_ you're in pain, I have the right to be worried."

"You're right. You are making it worse." He closes his eyes and leans his head back.

"Hey," I say in my nice voice. "Seeing you laying there next to that dead guy wasn't exactly reassuring. And then when you didn't respond..."

"I heard you," he says, surprising me. "And I think 'moderately intelligent ass' is an oxymoron."

"Well, this is you we're talking about. It was a compliment, anyway."

"Why did you correct yourself? I mean it's better than what you called me the first time..."

"Yeah. That's what I called Matt."

"Oh."

And then we don't say anything else until we get back to his house. I make him take his medication and turn on a baseball game. It's not the Yankees, but it's good enough.


	3. Part III

_Part III_

I wake up on Steve's couch and it's dark. For some reason, I know the house is empty except me. I get up and look out to the driveway to see my car is missing.

I yell at him later.

Right now, I try to figure out where he went. His phone is still on the counter where he left it, but his backpack is gone.

Seriously?

I take his keys and start toward the mountains. I don't know why, but I know he's there. And I'm about to go hiking in my nice shoes. Great.

When I see my car in the parking lot, I hope for a second that he hasn't gone far. But the engine is cool and he's nowhere to be found.

For a second, I wonder if I should call for help. But then I think, I would look pretty stupid if he's just sitting up there thinking, or whatever he does when he's alone.

Then it starts to rain.

I'm sure McGarrett has rain gear in his truck for such events, but I have my own sweatshirt in my trunk. Okay, so it's not waterproof. Oh, well. I'll get hypothermia chasing after my idiot partner. That's really not surprising at all.

I run up the path with a flashlight and a first aid kit, remembering how long it took the other morning. It will probably take longer considering the mud and darkness.

So, I hope he didn't get far. But my life is full of irony.

Now, I'm not exactly the greatest wilderness tracker or anything, but as I hike up the trail, I don't see any signs of Steve except for some footprints. As long as I see footprints, I keep going up.

I try not to think as I search the dense jungle. If I let myself consider all the possibilities, I won't be able to focus. So, my only thought as I run harder is to find Steve.

I slip a few times in the mud and my clothes are soaked. Once I make it to the place where we stopped to look at the view, the rain is coming down so hard that I can't see footprints anymore and seeing anything is getting difficult.

You try seeing in the dark with water in your eyes. The hood of my sweatshirt accomplishes absolutely nothing.

I keep running toward the petroglyphs. I suppose that's actually Greek for pictures on rocks. Not graffiti.

That's where I find him. Well, I don't see him at first, but as I sweep my flashlight around the area, it lands on a large mound near the edge of the cliff that I don't remember seeing last time.

When I get over to him, he's unconscious and bleeding from fresh cuts. It looks like he tripped a couple of times on his way up.

I take off my sweatshirt and lay it over him, wishing I had brought the other rain gear. It doesn't really do much good because it's soaked and much to small for him.

I hold the flashlight in my mouth, muttering the whole time, as I try to see how bad his injuries are. His heart rate seems fairly decent for being unconscious in the rain and he doesn't seem to be bleeding profusely from anywhere.

I stand up and look for somewhere to get out out of the rain. There is a spot under the petroglyphs that looks promising.

I try to wake Steve up, but he's not having any of it. So, I grit my teeth and drag him as best I can out of the rain.

My flashlight is dying and I have no way to signal for help. Now I'm thinking I should have called in a rescue team.

I keep trying to wake Steve up as I patch up his wounds. All the while wondering why the hell he came up here anyway.


	4. Part IV

It's been raining all day in my neck of the woods, so I have a lot of inspiration for this story. Thanks for all the reviews. You guys are powerful motivators.

_Part IV_

Being thoroughly soaked, I finally remember Steve's backpack. He has a rain poncho in there. He also has a lot of other useful things, so I tie the corners of the poncho to some overhanging bushes. I don't know how much it will help, but I'm tired of rain dripping in my eyes.

Now to wake up sleeping beauty. Actually, he wasn't looking so good.

He has hand warmers in his backpack, so I put some inside his shirt around his heart.

Then I have to dump water off the top of my makeshift tent. This isn't working out so well.

I consider trying to get to the summit to call for help. It took about fifteen minutes there and back last time. And that was in the daytime with no rain. My flashlight was almost dead too.

So, I kept trying to wake him up.

"Rise and shine," I say. "I mean, you seem pretty cheerful in life or death situations."

He makes no response. My only comfort is that his breathing is steady and his temperature isn't atrocious.

"Hey," I say again, "you're the only one who would enjoy this. Come on."

I keep trying to wake him and briefly consider jarring his arm, but then I hear a rattling noise in his pocket.

I take out the prescription bottle and I'm not curious enough to waste battery power, but I'm pretty sure it's strong stuff. I'm thinking that's why Steve's unconscious.

"Okay, Super SEAL," I say. "I'll let you sleep as long as you seem okay, but your breathing slows, or your temperature goes up, and I'm breaking your other arm. Got it?"

I take the silence as a yes and begin to weigh my options.

I don't want to leave Steve alone for several reasons: wild boars, hypothermia, the possibility of death in general. And the cell service at the summit may not work because of the storm.

I remember with some hope that storms in Hawaii come and go quickly. Usually

Of course, I've never paid attention to the storms that occur at three in the morning, or whatever time it is. But that's another reason to be hopeful. The sun will come up in a few hours. We just have to stay alive until then.

And this is where I wish I had more of the sort of training Steve does. I mean, I sort of know how to survive in the wilderness, but I have no idea how accurate my knowledge actually is.

So, I do my best to keep the rain off us and sit close to Steve to keep him warm. And to keep me warm, I suppose. I would lay down, but I don't want to fall asleep. I'm think our chances are better if I stay awake.

Then I remember the bottle of pills still in my hand, and I think about how he didn't even want to take them. And for once, I'm thinking I should have listened to him.

It's not long after this that I start to feel the exhaustion that's been creeping up on me. I will stay awake. I will not get hypothermia. I will not get eaten by boars or anything else.

So, I start talking. I feel like a complete idiot, but it keeps me alert and Steve can't hear me anyway.

"You know, I always thought I'd die of old age," I say. "Or at least getting shot by some drug dealer or something. I don't even like camping, or hiking, or whatever you call this."

I gesture around me and then remember to dump the water off the roof of our "tent."

"I never considered this," I go on. "And the horrible irony of it all is it's not even your fault... Well, maybe a little, but we can figure that out when you wake up. Which you'd better do soon, because I want to know why I'm going to die before it happens."

I look down at him and he's as still as the rocks. And as silent.

The only sign of life is the steady rise and fall of his chest which I can't see very well in the dark.

"You'll be okay," I finally say.


	5. Part V

_Part V_

Finally, it's quiet and I realize I'm asleep. Crap!

Of course, the second you realize you're asleep, you wake up. It's then I see that the silence is due to the rain stopping. The sun is lighting the horizon a little, and I sit up. I'm freezing and stiff, but I've managed to make it to the morning.

I turn to check on Steve to find that he's in pretty much the same condition in which I left him. I have a feeling he'll be worse off than me when he wakes up. I feel sorry for him, and I can count the number of things that make me feel that way on one hand.

The volume of him waking up surprises me for a few reasons. For some reason everything has been so quiet since he fell, especially last night, and he's not exactly voluble to begin with.

So I'm sort of conflicted as to whether this is a good sign or not. He hasn't opened his eyes, but every time it looks like he's going to move, he makes that noise again. It could probably constitute as groaning, but I'm so unused to hearing him make that noise.

I'm still fighting elation at the fact that we weren't eaten. I'm serious. I was concerned.

At this point, I start to think of what to do next. Surviving the night was step one. Now I have to figure out how to get us out of here. And for that, I have to wait for Mr. Incredible to wake up. I mean, wake all the way up, not this grumbling he's doing.

I also think that I'm hungry and what are the chances of food being in the backpack of power. Knowing McGarrett, he probably goes out into the wilderness without food, thinking he'll eat bugs and tree bark.

"Well, I'm not eating bugs," I say out loud for no particular reason.

Then there is a louder noise from the peanut gallery that sounds almost like words.

"Are you awake?" I ask. "If so, could you speak up."

"Good source of protein," he says. His eyes are still closed and he isn't moving.

"What?"

"Bugs. But I think there might be some granola bars in my pack if you have it."

"What did you think I would do with it? Feed it to the wild boars? Throw it off a cliff? No, this thing kept me alive last night with no help from you."

I begin digging through the backpack, no genuinely hungry.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he asks.

"That's my line," I say.

"I mean, how did you find me. Not that I don't appreciate it."

"It wasn't too hard. You took my car. Then left a bunch of footprints. Now you answer the question."

He tries to sit up, but seems to think better of it and settles for opening his eyes. "You ever take heavy pain medication, Danno?" he asks.

"Where is this going?"

"Well, for certain people, it can make them feel invincible."

"I thought you already did?"

"Somewhat invincible."

"That's a contradiction in terms."

"Like moderately intelligent ass? This is me we're talking about."

"Okay, so the drugs made you run off into the mountains?"

"I don't really remember last night, so I couldn't tell you, but that would be my guess."

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. Speaking of which." I take his meds out of my pocket and hold them up.

"I'm not taking that stuff anymore. When it makes you feel like nothing's wrong, it's too much."

"So, how are you planning on getting up, much less walking out of here, because you can't even move."

"There might be something milder in my pack."

I grimace at what I find. "Steve, this is Tylenol. The stuff you give to kids with fevers."

"Better than nothing."

"But nowhere near as good as..." I look at the label on his prescription. "Vicodin. You know what. Never mind. Here."

I hand him the Tylenol and a bottle of water and he manages to use his right hand to take them.

Now, I'm seriously considering the option of actually walking out of here with him and driving to the hospital. I guess he's not the only one with an independent streak.


	6. Part VI

_Part VI_

"What time is it?" Steve asks suddenly.

"I don't know," I say. My phone battery died last night and I didn't put my watch on before I left his house.

He looks at the horizon and seems to be thinking. "Probably about six. No one will be looking for us yet."

Then he starts to sit up and it looks difficult, but I let him do it himself. After some restrained grunting, he's upright.

"My guess," he says, "It'll take longer to get down with the mud and... so on."

"So on," I repeat. "That's one way of putting it. I guess my only question is can you walk?"

"In a second."

"Hey, don't try to be tough. I can climb up and call for help."

"I'm not... Well, not much. I think I'll be able to make it down."

"Well, here." I toss him one of the granola bars and then pack everything else up. Once I have the backpack on, he's trying to stand up. I feel like offering to help, but I'm not sure.

"You need a hand?" I finally ask.

"Just a little," he replies.

I take his good arm and help him to his feet. "Nothing else broken?"

"No. Just bruises from the fall. I didn't feel it until now."

"Okay. You good?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

It's not until we start walking and I look at him that I realize he's still wearing my sweatshirt over his shoulders. And I remember that he's probably very cold.

Mud. Mud. And more mud.

We both slip several times on the way down and I've stopped thinking about how crazy the people in the ER will think we are. I think this might have been his plan from the very beginning. Getting me over to the dark side. Right now, I'm too tired to fight it.

This man has singlehandedly decimated my character.

Somewhere after the first couple miles, I stop thinking altogether. So, it's surprising when the ground levels out and turns to gravel and I see our cars.

I can't remember ever being so tired, but it looks like Steve is more so.

"Hey," he says in a breathy voice. "We made it."

"It's a miracle," I deadpan.

"You okay to drive? We could call someone."

"With what? My phone is dead and I bet yours has serious water damage."

"No. I don't have mine. Okay. You drive."

"What did you do with my keys?"

He hands them to me and I can count the number of times that's happened on one finger. Yeah. One.

Sitting down makes me want to go to sleep, but I know we have to get to the hospital before we both pass out. And I've stopped caring what anyone thinks.

We're both silent on the drive, too exhausted to talk, but that's okay. It's not like the dead quiet before. But the semi-contented quiet of two people who very nearly died, but are almost to safety.

I've always thought of McGarrett as the cliché "strong, silent type," but now I can see the benefits. It takes much less energy for one thing and it allows time to think.

Of course, I never considered McGarrett a particularly thoughtful individual. I suppose I could be wrong.

After all, there's a first time for everything.


	7. Part VII

_Part VII_

By the time we get to the hospital, I really, really don't care what anyone thinks. I'm cold and tired and hungry and extremely muddy.

McGarrett is in worse shape.

When we get to the ER a familiar nurse gives us a curious look.

"You two look like you spent the night in the storm," she says.

"We did," I reply.

And for some reason, she's not as surprised as maybe she thought she would be.

By this time, I'm thinking I should call Chin and Kono, but I'm not sure what to tell them. The truth is so ridiculous. But they'll believe it, I'm sure. Nothing he does—nothing we do—is shocking to anyone anymore.

After the doctor looks at me and makes sure none of my scrapes will get infected, I remember that I'm supposed to pick up Grace this afternoon. Camping trip from hell or no, I will not cancel on my daughter.

I suppose I have a few hours to get cleaned up and maybe take a nap.

I return from the waiting room and Chin and Kono are there along with Governor Jameson herself. Some nosy nurse must have called them.

Kono hugs ma and Chin pats my shoulder. They tell me that McGarrett will be out soon and then the governor pulls me aside.

"He needs to take some time off," she says in a low voice.

I couldn't agree more and tell her so.

She nods. "It's a good thing you were there last night or who knows what could have happened. I would appreciate it if you would stay close to him."

"You mean you want me to keep an eye on him? Make sure he doesn't do anything else crazy?"

"Since you put it that way, yes."

"Okay. I'll try to keep him at home for a couple of days. But you know him; I can't promise anything."

"Of course. Thank you."

She leaves and the others start asking me for details I don't necessarily remember or would rather forget.

I never thought I would be so happy to see McGarrett coming back to the waiting room. Of course, Chin and Kono don't think I should drive, but I'm just tired and I suppose a little stiff.

So, we drive back to his house and I think it's about time for a better explanation of what happened last night.

"My pain threshold is very high," he says as if it explains everything.

"I knew that," I say.

"Well, when I don't feel any pain, I'm very likely to do stupid things."

"Okay, why didn't you go wrestle with a shark or something. Why the mountain?"

"I guess maybe I was trying to make up for the other day."

"By going up there to die or what?"

"I did tell you that I don't remember much of last night, didn't I?"

"Yeah. You said that. But what do you mean by 'make up'?"

"That place had a lot of good associations for me. Finding a body up there..."

"Ah. I see. Well, if you want me to go hiking with you in the daytime when there's nice whether, I'm fine with that. In the middle of the night with a storm, not so much."

For a second, he doesn't say anything. "Thanks, Danno."

"You're welcome. Oh, Gracie is coming over later. I have to go get her so I get the first shower."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smirking.

"There's a guest bathroom," he says.


	8. Part VIII

**Two chapters at once! Yay! I probably won't update tomorrow, but I'm only going to have a couple more chapters. Thank you all for reading and reiewing.**

_Part VIII_

What I seem to have forgotten is that I don't have any clean clothes. So I have to wear his. If you think that's not a big deal, he's like two feet taller than me.

Okay, nine inches, but it feels like two feet.

His shorts come past my knees and I look like some kind of punk teenager. The baggy t-shirt doesn't help.

And of course, my shoes are ruined and the only option is to borrow his flip-flops. I really think I might die.

He says I look fine and no one will care. I disagree with the first part, but I remember that I don't care what people think right now.

"Okay," I say, standing by the door, "I'm going to get Grace and pizza, and you are going to sit there and do absolutely nothing."

"So, you _don't_ want me to watch your silly baseball game for you?"

"You know what I mean. And it's not silly."

"I'm sorry. No. It's not."

"You were just trying to annoy me?"

"Sort of."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Just don't move while I'm gone, okay?"

"Then don't be gone too long."

I throw up my hands and walk out of the house. I'm not sure how well this babysitting thing will go.

Chin and Kono were going over to get Steve's truck and then they said they'd come up to his house once they finished up some paper work from the case.

Reinforcements will be nice.

Grace is waiting for me at the gate and she notices my attire.

"Are you wearing Uncle Steve's clothes?" she asks.

This is one time I wish she were less like me.

"Yeah," I reply. "Mine got all dirty, so I had to borrow some."

"What were you doing?"

Oh, how to explain last night to a nine-year-old. "We got stuck in the mountains in a storm," I say.

"Why were you in the mountains?"

Because your "Uncle Steve" is an idiot. "Because Steve likes it up there." Well, that much was true.

"Still, he shouldn't go camping in the rain."

"That's right, Monkey. You should tell him that when we get back."

"Where are we going?"

"To get pizza and then to Steve's house."

"Can we play in the water?"

"Uh... I don't know."

That was the last thing I wanted to be doing, and Steve couldn't get his cast wet. Then I remembered that Grace didn't know about that.

"Uh, Grace Uncle Steve hurt his arm a couple days ago, so he won't be able to go swimming. He has to stay inside."

"Does it have a cast?"

"Yeah."

"You think he'd let me sign it?"

"I think you should ask him, and if he says no, you should make a really cute face and make him give in."

"You think that will work?"

"If anything will." I smile at the thought. McGarrett's cast will be signed. Maybe not by me, but it will.


	9. Part IX

_Part IX_

The good thing about buying pizza is you get to choose what goes on it. Of course, the difficulty is if you're a good friend, you get your injured friend what he wants. And my injured friend likes... pineapple.

It is obvious to me that we need multiple pizzas. Especially if Chin and Kono show up. So, I get one with pineapple and one with pepperoni. Then I make sure that the boxes don't touch. Grace thinks that's silly, but of all the things I've done in the last 24 hours, this doesn't feel all that weird.

When we get back to McGarrett's house, he's still on the couch and actually seems to be paying attention to the baseball game.

Grace climbs up next to him and gives him that look. That look that says, "I want something and you will give it to me because I'm cute and you won't be able to resist."

I have seen that look many times.

"Yes, Grace?" he says as if he doesn't notice.

"Can I sign your cast?" she asks. I think she might have feinted a lisp there.

Then he looks at me and I see that evil face I've seen far too many times and I realize what's going on here. Of course, he'll let Grace sign his cast. He just won't let me.

I try to think of logical reasons for this. All I can come up with is that he wants to annoy me. So, I won't be annoyed.

"Sure," he says. "Ask Danno to find you a marker."

Leaving the pizza on the coffee table, I take Grace to the kitchen and tell her my plan. Of course, she agrees and in the long run, I think everyone will be happy with it.

Of course, when Steve sees what she writes on the cast, he automatically blames me. There in bold black letters it says, _**Gracie & Danno**_.

I happen to think it looks very nice.

"Hey," I say, sitting down and grabbing some pizza. "I saved your life twice. I think I should get my name on your cast."

He seems to be thinking and then he smirks. "I thought you hated it when I called you Danno," he says.

"I didn't write it. Grace did."

"Right. So it was her idea?"

I shrug and I know he doesn't buy it.

"Uncle Steve," Grace says.

"Yes?" Steve replies.

"If Danno saved your life, shouldn't you say thank you?"

He looks at me with an expression I'm not sure I've seen before. "I already did," he says.

"I thought that was for offering to go hiking again," I say.

"Yeah."

And that's all he says. I know he's not really that interested in baseball, but he acts like he is.

I guess I can sort of see his point. I know anything that reminds him of his dad is inherently depressing. I've endured the silence many times because everything on this damn island reminds him of his dad.

I can see how taking my up there where he had so many fond memories could have been his way of moving on. I can see how important it is that we go back there and make everything right.

And I honestly don't mind. Actually, I sort of want to go with him.

"Uncle Steve!" Gracie says. "You're not supposed to be happy when the Red Sox score!"

"I'm not? Why?"

"Because they're evil," I say.

"I don't get it," he says.

"Of course you don't," I say. "You were deprived as a child. We hate the Red Sox, no matter who they're playing, but especially when they play the Yankees."


	10. Part X

**_Thank you all for reading this. It was only intended to be a oneshot, but your initial comments made me rethink that and give you this extented version. I hope you enjoy the last chapter._**

_Part X_

It's been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal and our last case was particularly draining. I can tell we all need a break and I'm pretty sure I know how we will all be spending it. Kono will go surfing. Chin will go for a long ride on his bike. And I'll be looking a graffiti on rocks with the recently cast-free McGarrett.

I haven't told him that I actually want to go, but I think he figures that out when I'm the one who suggests it.

There are a few reasons. One: exhaustion is a great stress reliever. I mean, I slept like a rock after the last time up there. Two: I want to get rid of the negative associations too. Three: he needs this. I think it's best for our collective mental health.

It sort of disturbs me that I've gotten this close to him, but then I suppose it's a good thing. It gives me great motivation to keep him alive, which he needs, because he has no motivation to do it himself apparently.

It's a hot day, which is just my luck. Contrary to popular belief, I do own a pair of shorts. And since this is hiking, not work, I have no obligation to look professional.

Steve still manages to make a snide comment about it.

"Aren't you afraid you'll burst into flames or something?" he asks as we stand at the foot of the trail.

"From the heat?" I say. "Yeah."

"Don't you have heat in Jersey?"

"Yeah. In the summer."

"It's almost summer."

"In the Southern Hemisphere."

He smirks and puts on his backpack. I feel like he's letting me have the last word, but actually contradicting me in his head. Because it actually is almost summer and Hawaii is supposed to be hot in April.

He doesn't say a word, but starts up the trail, still wearing that goofy smile. And I'm not going to take that away from him.

He stops again at the same place as the first time we made this trip. He doesn't talk like last time, but just stares at the view, as if trying to memorize it.

I remember how he told me to stop talking. This time, I don't start. It is a beautiful view and the hard work it took to get here makes it that much better. He starts walking again, slowly and I follow. It's not like we're in a hurry anyway.

When we get to the petroglyphs, he tells me what the rest of them mean. I can imagine him here with his dad, hearing the same story, who knows how many times. And I can see this happening again and again until I know what all the pictures mean. And maybe if Grace ever wanted to come up here I would bring her and tell her about the turtle and all his little friends.

I'm not saying McGarrett was right. Okay, maybe I am.

Finally, he speaks again. "This was a good idea."

"Yeah. I have a few of those," I say.

"We should do this again."

"Yeah."

Maybe he's a little surprised at how readily I agree with him. He's quiet for a second. Then he says,

"Mahalo, brah."

I know what it means, but I pretend not to. Not that he's really fooled.

We head back down the mountain, still not talking much. Talking is for cars and baseball games, I've learned.

We go back to his place and watch the Yankees game and he doesn't pretend to "accidentally" cheer for the wrong team.

After that, we go hiking a lot after work. I loose count of how many times we go up there. Every time it's the same. We climb the mountain and stop to appreciate the view.

The silence is... well, it just is.


End file.
